


Ringtones

by Monsterunderkilt



Series: The Manse [11]
Category: Actor RPF, Celebrities - Fandom, RPF - Fandom, Real Person Fanfic - Fandom, Real Person Fiction
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:42:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26553031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Monsterunderkilt/pseuds/Monsterunderkilt
Summary: Sir Ken and I rekindle our old infatuation
Series: The Manse [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1209447
Kudos: 2





	Ringtones

While finishing up my daily Shakespeare reading for the day, I notice that I keep hearing snatches of songs coming from the bedroom. I sneak out of the office and walk down the hall, seeing Ken sitting on the edge of the bed, fiddling with his iPhone, a dour mood creasing his face. I enter the room, perhaps too stealthily, but not purposely so, and climb onto the bed behind him. He doesn’t budge, just keeps tapping tones over and over. I sigh and place my chin on his shoulder, nuzzling his left ear with my cheek.

He makes a little groan. “I can’t seem to find a decent tone for this thing, Cait,” he says dejectedly. “They’re all too… nettlesome.”

I snort. “Nettlesome,” I say and reach my arms around his shoulders to grab the phone. I hold it up and futz with the settings to find a semi-hidden list of different tones. “You… are an old man.”

“I’m your old man,” Ken says, watching as I tap some “legacy” tones for him to sample. 

“You are younger than my real old man, so stop that. Now try these.”

“Oh wait, that one!” he says, tapping the screen. “I rather like that one.”

I snort again, because he chose the one tone thats reminiscent of Big Ben. “Of course you like that one.” I set it for him. “All sorted.”

Ken takes the phone from my hand and sets it aside on the nightstand, then gently grabs both my arms and holds me against his back, nuzzling his freshly shaven cheek against mine. I close my eyes and sense the big smile on the edge of his mouth, turning ever so slowly closer to my own. My heart flutters at his adorably misplaced prudence and I quickly close the gap to lay a chaste but lingering kiss on his thin lips. His hands tighten on my arms as he breathes deeply, opening his eyes to see me grin at him. He blushes. “What do you want with me, you saucy youth?”

I giggle and squeeze him harder. “You are my muse, you studly bastard.”

“You’re probably the only person in the world whose first mental image of me is not fucking Gilderoy Lockhart, you know that.”

I roll my eyes. “Ugh, no, I am definitely not the only one, Sir Ken. You were Henry and Berowne and Benedick and Hamlet and Iago before all that. You will always be the Shakespeare Knight. And you will always be Wallander. And the guy who basically made Chris Hemsworth and Tom Hiddleston household names.”

He chuckles, dropping his hands so he can turn to face me as we sit side by side on the bed. He tucks a stray strand of curl behind my ear and winks at me. “You’re a strange bird, and there is no one else like you. Thank you.”

I reach up and hold his hand against my cheek. I blink a tear out of my eye and lean closer, placing my other hand over his heart. “Pardonnez-moi, I cannot tell what is ‘like me.’”

“An angel is like you, Cait, and you are like an angel,” he replies, without missing a beat. The words are etched into the solid book and volume of his brain forever, and I suddenly see decades fall from his visage, his upstart essence re-emerging.

My turn to blush. “Am I, though?”

He smiles so warmly that I want to wrap my hands around his face like it’s a mug of hot chocolate in winter. “I said so, Cait, and I must not blush to affirm it.”

I feel my eyes roll back as I close them, and my ubuli quiver ever so hard. “Dearest Sir… my favorite Sir… just leap into this wife already.” 

He takes a slow, deep breath, eyes fixed upon mine, turning serious. Then he nearly startles me with how swiftly he pulls me into a full-bodied kiss, perfectly paired with the meat of the moment. I melt as he seems to both drink me in and pour his passion into our languorous lip lock. Like, Holy hell, I was told there would be a hand basket. I knew he had it in him.

I hop into his lap, straddling him, thighs tight against his hips. I go in for part two of this sweet delight, and he stops me, breathless. We stare into each other’s eyes, burning from the very tips of our ears down to our loins. He sighs. “It’s… almost like… the first time.”

My eyelids flutter, my heart quakes, and my nethers ache. “It’s even better, Ken.” 

His pupils dilate that instant and I swoop in.


End file.
